Dream a Little Dream
by Jaxin88
Summary: After the events of School Reunion, Rose is still a little shaken by the Doctor's treatment of Sarah Jane. But a good night's sleep should help... right?


**A/N: So, I ran across a rather lovely idea yesterday, based on a gifset by burntlikethesun on Tumblr- namely, that Girl in the Fireplace was not, in fact, an episode, but rather a shared nightmare of the Doctor and Rose. Yes, I do enjoy denial, why do you ask? **

**I also enjoy characters staying in character. /end snark**

ΘΣ

Rose stopped in the hallway, her smile forced. "Right, here you go, then. You might wanna get some rest—who knows where the Doctor'll be takin' us in the morning."

Mickey wrinkled his nose as he pushed the door open, peering into the dimly lit, white-walled room. He glanced back at Rose. "'S a bit bland, innit?"

She glanced beyond him and raised an eyebrow. "Look again."

He frowned and turned back, then gasped. The stern, institutional room had shifted, the walls now a deep green and the furniture plush and inviting. He bounded into the room, plopping himself down onto the wide leather armchair set out in front of a wide-screen TV. "No _way! _This is wicked!" He gaped at the cabinet beneath the television. "Are those VR goggles?"

"Are they what?"

"Virtual reality goggles! They are, aren't they? No wonder you don' wanna leave!"

Rose sighed impatiently. "That's not it, Mickey."

He raised his hands. "Oi, don't go gettin' pissy at me just 'cause your bloke's got some skeletons in the closet."

She pursed her lips. "I doubt Sarah Jane would appreciate bein' called a skeleton."

He smirked and turned back to the gaming console, sliding the goggles onto his head. "Yeah, whatever." He turned to her and grinned. "What d'you think? Do I look like that bloke from Star Trek?" He frowned. "How d'these things work, anyways?"

Rose shrugged, then crossed her arms again. "How'm I supposed to know?"

He slipped the goggles off and glanced up at her. "You're the one who's been goin' on about livin' here for years now."

Rose froze. "Has it been?"

Mickey raised his eyebrows. "What?"

She bit her lip. "Years, now."

He looked down and fiddled with the headset, carefully avoiding her gaze. "Two years last week, yeah."

"Blimey." She rubbed her forehead. "So I'm twenty, back home. I'm twenty, an' I didn't even notice."

He spoke to his hands, playing with the goggles. "Easy to forget things, when you're out havin' adventures. Easy to forget a lot of things."

Rose swallowed. "Mickey..."

"Hey." He smiled up at her, but it wasn't the easy grin she was used to from him. "'M okay. I'm just gonna test this thing out—you look knackered, babe. You should get some rest."

Her shoulders tightened. "I don't need to be _mothered_, Mickey."

He lifted his hands. "Never said you did. Blimey, you're cranky."

Rose bit her lip against an angry retort. "Guess I am tired, yeah." She forced herself to smile at him. "Maybe you're right. See you in the mornin', yeah?"

"Yeah. 'Night."

She shut his door behind her and thumped her forehead against the cool wall before heading down the corridor. She couldn't keep taking her bad mood out on Mickey, and the Doctor had made himself scarce hours ago after telling her—practically ordering her—to show Mickey around.

Time was he would barely even tolerate her ex, and now he was shoving them off to spend time together. She didn't know what was going on in that thick Time Lord head of his, but she was willing to bet it wasn't good. He'd been freaked out by Sarah Jane, as happy as he was to see her again, and Rose swallowed against the bile in her throat. Was that what was going to happen to her? Even if he did let her stick around, was he just going to prance in some day with a new flavor of the week? What they had... she'd thought it was special. But then again, so had Sarah Jane.

Rose swallowed and remembered the hurt in Sarah Jane's eyes as the Doctor showed off the new model. She double-checked her phone, and nodded at the contact marked SJ Smith. She wasn't going to let the Doctor ignore Sarah Jane like that again—if Rose had her way, they'd be dropping in for tea sometime soon.

A familiar voice broke into her musings. "Oi, there you are. Been looking all over for you."

Rose jumped and looked up at the Doctor, then slipped her phone in her pocket and lifted her chin. "Could've fooled me. I've just been showing Mickey around, like you wanted."

He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Right."

They stood in heavy silence for a moment before they both started speaking. "Doctor—"

"Well, I—" They froze, staring at each other, and the Doctor watched Rose warily. "Yes, Rose?"

She shrugged and tucked her hands into her pockets, ducking her head. "'M just gonna head to bed. Lemme know when we land somewhere, yeah?"

He moved abruptly and clapped his hands together, walking with her down the corridor. "Right! Yes. Bed. It has been a long day, hasn't it? Sounds like a good idea." Rose looked at him, her eyebrow raised, and he flushed. "Not together, of course, but. You know. As a general pastime. You humans do it so much, should be some merit in it, right?"

She wrinkled her nose. "What're we talkin' about?"

He cleared his throat, looking flustered. "What're you talking about?"

Rose raised her eyebrows. "Going to sleep."

He reached up to tug on his ear. "Well, I was too, of course."

"Riiiight." She frowned. "I thought you didn't need to sleep."

"I don't, as a matter of course. But variety is the spice of life, as they say, so why not switch things up? I could end up being a champion sleeper. They give out medals for that on Psylos, you know."

Rose snorted as she reached her door. "Sure. Good night, Doctor."

"There's no night on the TARDIS, Rose." She glared at him, and he gulped and ruffled his hair. "Right. Sleep well."

She changed into the pajamas her mum had forced on her, a leftover from cousin Mo, and scrubbed her teeth, trying hard not to think.

The last thing that slipped through her mind before she fell asleep was _He couldn't seem to get away from me fast enough._

ΘΣ

The Doctor jerked awake, his heart pounding. He stared up at the ceiling, his hearts racing. What _was_ that? He hadn't had a dream in years—the TARDIS wouldn't let him. She shielded him from his nightmares, after... after the War. So why had he dreamt now? And about clockwork men and pre-Revolutionary France?

He sat up and ran his hand over his face, letting the strange events roll through him. He grinned at the thought of meeting Madame Du Pompadour, but the grin faded as the rest of the dream drifted back to him. As if he would leave Rose behind like that. At that thought, his eyes widened. He'd thought there was something that seemed familiar about the dream, a sparkling cast of gold and a whiff of jasmine, just like—

_Was that her?_ The TARDIS was strangely silent, and the Doctor clenched his hands. _Was that Rose's dream? Answer me!_

She hummed apologetically at him, and the Doctor flopped back on the bed, his eyes wide and unseeing. Did she... did she really think he would abandon her like that?

Suddenly, his grand plan to put some space between them (_ha, as if he ever had a plan_) seemed ridiculous. He needed to see her, right now. He scrambled out of bed, not even bothering to change into his clothes, and reached for the door. Before he could reach it, it slammed open and a very angry, very tired Rose Tyler came storming in.

_Slap_.

Blimey, it looked like the Tyler arm was hereditary.

She glared at him. "That was for France, you bastard."

The Doctor raised his eyebrows at her, rubbing his hand on his sore cheek. "You do realize that it was a dream, right?"

She blinked, then looked around the messy, dark room and looked down at herself. She was wearing a rather cute jimjam set, but the way she blanched and crossed her arms across her chest made him think she wouldn't appreciate any commentary. After a moment, though, she frowned. "Wait, how d'you know about it, then?"

He paused, then rubbed the back of his neck. "Ah." That was his Rose, always asking the right questions. "I think... I think the TARDIS didn't want you to be alone."

She tucked her arms even closer about her. He remembered how she felt about the TARDIS being in her head so long ago, and winced. "So she, what, dragged you into my nightmare?"

His voice was soft, careful. "I think so, yes."

Rose glared at the ceiling. "You couldn't've asked?" A distinctly grumpy hum came from the walls, and the Doctor scowled. Rose raised her eyebrows. "What'd she say?"

"Apparently, she doesn't trust our communication skills." He glared at the ceiling. _You rusty heap of scrap metal._

The room jolted in indignation and Rose stumbled into him, her hands reaching out of leverage. Her chest brushed against his, and suddenly her defensive posture made sense. Rose Tyler, in his bedroom, without a bra. His brain very nearly shorted out.

She jerked away from him and crossed her arms again, looking angry and mortified. The Doctor swallowed and forced himself not to think about her sleepwear. The TARDIS would keep bothering them until they talked, so they might as well talk. In his centuries, he'd learned the hard lesson that there was nothing more stubborn than a sentient time-and-space machine.

"Rose..." She glanced up at him, her eyes dark and way, and he reached for her half-heartedly, his hand clenching into a fist when she tightened her shoulders. "You don't really think I'd leave you behind like that, do you?"

She snorted and shook her hair back, her jaw high. "Not one for dream analysis, me."

"Bollocks." Rose stared at him, her eyes wide, and he continued, frustrated. "Your brain made that story for a reason. I'm not going to leave you, Rose. I already told you that."

"Did you tell that to Sarah Jane, too?" She clapped a hand over her mouth, but the words were already out.

The Doctor's jaw tightened. "Is that what this is? Jealousy?"

Rose suddenly looked very tired. She sighed, defeated. "I'm going to bed."

He was suddenly furiously, irrationally angry. What did she _want _from him? "I thought you understood, Rose."

She spun around, her eyes flaming. "How can I understand when you never _say _anything? You told me you were alone, Doctor, and you aren't—you've had all these who knows how many companions, assistants, whatever the hell you want to call us, and when you get tired of us you just drop us off and go find the next one."

His face turned glacial. "That's not it at all."

"Then _tell_ me what it is!"

"_You_ leave _me!_"

The room was quiet in the wake of his shout, both of them staring at each other. Rose's chest was rising, falling with the force of her breathing, and she swallowed heavily. "I'm not gonna leave you."

His lips twisted into a semblance of a smile. "Well, _I'm_ not going to leave_ you._"

She closed her eyes. "No. You'll just send me away."

His breath caught in his throat. "What?"

"I remember, Doctor. I remember what I did. What _you_ did."

Her eyes opened, and he shivered in the memory of blazing gold. His jaw tightened. "I was trying to keep you safe."

"What if I don't want safe, Doctor? Does that even matter to you?"

"Of course it does. But not as much as your life." She glared at him, and he glared right back. "I'm not losing you, Rose. Never you."

"Then stop pushing me away."

His defenses crumpled and he reached for her, pulling her into his arms. "I never could. Not really." She snorted into his chest, but it shifted into a yawn halfway through. He smiled against her hair, tightening his arms around her. "You should get some rest, Rose." He glanced up at the wall and rolled his eyes. "Which... might be a bit easier here."

She turned her head and stared at the blank wall. "Blimey. She's not kiddin' around, is She?"

"Apparently not." He tugged her back to the bed, and she curled against his chest. "Get some rest, Rose. Oh, we've got so many places to go."

ΘΣ


End file.
